Message
by absinthespoon
Summary: At a small tea shop in Wind country, a blind man gives her two messages. Itachi x Tenten.
I wrote this some time ago, and decided to upload. I think this is a somewhat believable portrayal of how Itachi Tenten relationship would look like. Though they lack explosive attraction, they are characters who would balance each other, steady each other.

I own nothing

...

Tenten sat in a dimly lit shop in a small town near the borders of Wind country. It was half past five in the afternoon, but the sun had already set. She held the warm cup of longjing green tea in her hands. She blew softly across the top, watching the steam dance. A plate of dango skewers rested on a plate of the wooden table in front of her. Next to it was sat a second upside down cup. A ceramic pot of white and blue design filled with hot water and lazily rising steam. The meeting location was his choice this time, but she did not mind at all.

Tenten wore no weapons on her body, and hasn't since her rise to jounin. Since her entry to the first chuunin exams, she trained with innumerable weapons and stored them inside scrolls. Later on, she studied some preliminary aspects of fuuinjustsu. She could definitely not be considered an expert, although she was proficient enough for her purposes, enough to seal the weapons onto her body. The majority of the seals she chose to write in vines of small letters along her two arms in black ink.

A flick of blood would summon it comfortably, allowing for many of her attacks. She was a deadly blade. Sheathed.

The shop bell tinkered, and a man in a large black cloak entered. The cloak was interesting, embroidered with red clouds and seemed of good quality. The man walked past the shop keeper in the front, and towards the back. He turned at her table and sat down. He looks in her general direction but doesn't see. Sharingan overuse had rendered Uchiha Itachi blind.

Tenten flips over the upside down cup and places a pinch of dried leaves inside. She adds hot water in thirds. She pushes the cup towards him, causing the dull sound of pottery on wood. It was an offering.

He takes it. He moves both his hands to pick up the cup in front of him, holding the warm cup a few centimeters above the table. He casts an illusion around them along with the motion, sparing barely a thought. She feels his chakra at the edge of her senses, protective.

Tenten feels some of her anxiety – built up from the past missions - drain at the sound of his voice.

She speaks, "The weather in Wind country has been fluctuating lately. Was your trip here pleasant?" The shinobi equivalent of talking about the weather, an easy conversation starter if nothing else. She hasn't seen Itachi in nearly two months, not since her last mission for the toad sannin.

His voice was a smooth tenor, "bearable, though I care not for retrieval missions. I am not a dog." Briefly, the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

She found humor in his statement too, smiling as she teased "I'm sure Inuzuka-san would not be too pleased to hear that. I admit I always had the impression you were more of a havoc-causing weasel for some reason." Inuzuka Hana was often one of her teammates and she specializing in tracking. She also happened to be on Itachi's genin team before the massacre.

"You wound me. "

"I'll make it up to you," she assured.

Itachi's right eyebrow kicked up in surprise and amusement. "Oh?"

"Not like that." Although having said that, she perused the length of his body. Attractive as usual. Her eyes rested on his right hand holding his tea. To her displeasure, she found a faint scar on his wrist that she hadn't seen before. She idly noted that it seemed almost like the byproduct of a lightening jutsu of some sort.

Itachi held his tea, blowing on it gently. He swirled the tea three times before bringing it close to assess its scent. "How is Sasuke doing?" he asked.

Tenten let a telltale smile cross her lips, "How is Samehada" she countered. Kisame was a partner of sorts for Itachi while in Akatsuki. She recently heard that he lost possession of his sword, Samehada.

Itachi drank a sip of his tea, considering her. "If you are asking after Kisame, he is doing fine." He paused then added, "Although a little worse off having lost his one true love."

"That's not what I asked."

Itachi acquiesced to her demand, "I confess to being a little surprised that you found out so quickly. Samehada is now in Killer B's possession. It tasted his chakra and liked it far more than it did Kisame."

"Hmmph. I see." She would have liked to possess the weapon, but it seemed as if it were not to be. Hearing its desertion of Kisame, Tenten marked it a few points lower for lack of loyalty.

"Sasuke?" Itachi prompted.

"He has recently risen to be an ANBU captain." Tenten did not move her eyes from his face, watching closely for any sign of change, "He and Naruto went out on the night of his promotion and got wasted. Sakura ended punching them through the roof when they somehow ended up in her house drunk." Tenten recalled with great mirth. She saw his lips twitch upwards at the image.

A companionable silence settled over the two of them. Tenten's fingertips were chilled from the low ambient temperature, and so she poured more hot tea to the cups, Itachi's first followed by her own. Thoughts of Naruto lead her mind down darker paths. She ruminated quietly about the current state of the unrestful factions within Konoha.

The council has been particularly stirred up lately, calling for the weaponization of their jinchuuriki, of Naruto. Danzo the old war hawk was probably behind it. She wondered how Tsunade-sama planned to deal with that aged councilor.

A soft clink of Itachi's teacup on the table caused her eyes to dart to his. Tenten had a brief moment of surprise that she could see his eyes, before wry acceptance. An illusion on the two of them while they were already encased in illusion. The wheels of the sharingan spun, pulling her in.

...

They were indoors, standing barefoot on a clean wooden floor. The room was surrounded by walls that were illuminated by sunlight spilling in from the windows. A quick glance revealed a thicket of woods outside of the small house. Training posts in the yard, still with a few kunai sticking out from them. It was quiet. Peaceful.

She suddenly feels a pang of worry, wondering how long it has been since he has seen colors. But she does not say this. Instead, she evaluated the landscape of the genjutsu, "You could have given me a warning beforehand."

She would have been annoyed with the deception, if not for the vulnerability displayed within the illusion. It felt like a home.

Itachi used shunshin to appear behind her, "You must have suspected it was coming" She spun around to face him. Within his tsukuyomi illusion, it was difficult to predict his movements. However, she was used to operating under subpar conditions. Tenten bit her thumb to draw blood, swiping it across the one of the numerous seals on her arms to release the sealed contents. She held the senbon needles that appeared and threw them in quick succession.

Itachi dodged twice with the simple displacement technique, before being out-predicted, forced to deflect the third senbon needle with a kunai. Humorously, it was aimed directly at his bellybutton. Itachi smiled with a sliver of white teeth, tisking lightly, "Silly shinobi-san, no weapons in the house please."

Tenten's facial expression remained amused but her right index finger gave a slight twitch of annoyance as she stared him down. "Well?" she prompted, waiting. Business first. Whatever information he had, she would pass to Tsunade-sama.

"Jiraiya-sama's movements in Rain have been detected. His intel from the two usual sources may be compromised. However, it may be of interest to him that Akatsuki is putting off pursuit of the eight tails and is focusing more on the one tailed."

"Gaara," Tenten half asked, half stated. Tenten had mixed feelings on the subject of Gaara. He had grown into a trustworthy Kazekage and a noble man. No one disputes the good he has done for Sunagakure. But Tenten cannot forget that he had once stood over Lee's hospital bed, raised his hand and attempted to kill Lee.

"Precisely. Because the Kazekage cannot leave Suna, the plan may be to overwhelm the Suna forces on two fronts. Deidara may be sent for distraction on the city itself while another, either Kakuzu or Sasori, will focus on single target combat with Gaara."

Tenten mused over the information while memorizing Itachi's exact wording. It wasn't her job to decide on the subsequent steps to take against the organization Akatsuki, only to convey the message. But if asked, she may recommend against sending Naruto. His capture would spell tragedy.

Her eyes tracked Itachi's movements as he went to the window, sunlight falling across his figure. "I have one more message," he mentions casually. She feels the amusement he projects.

"Oh? What's what?" Tenten asks, playing along.

He finally turns back to her, and she can read the heated intent in his eyes. "Why don't you find out, Tenten?" Her name rolls off his tongue, and she immediately catches the connotation behind the use of the particular appellation. A breeze flows through the open window, cool against her skin.

Tenten raises an amused eyebrow. The low burn of persistent attraction flares. She walks towards him, step by step. He watches her with lips upturned, unmoving.

She reaches for his right hand, holding it with both of hers. She turns it upwards and muses at how much blood have stained the both of them. Their hands are the hands of ninja. Her fingers run over the calluses, testaments to a particular style of weapon grip as well as the sheer number of fights they've been in. She places a kiss on the palm and he lets out a low sound.

Tenten looks up to him as his left hand slides upward to the nape of her neck. Itachi strokes her nape as he exerts light pressure propelling her forwards.

Itachi turns his head slightly to the side so that she ends up over his shoulder instead of kissing him in a loose embrace. He presses small kisses on her hair, temple, cheek and ear lobe. "Missed me?" he murmurs.

"Yes," her eyes flash up to his and she slants her mouth over his. Her forwards momentum carries them to the wall behind him. Itachi responds instantaneously, pulling her body close up against him. Tenten slides her arms around his waist, molding her body to his. The heat of her body permeated through his stiff but thin shirt. She feels hot, comfortable and safe all at once.

Itachi broke off the kiss to take a breath, resting his head against hers. "Let's stay here for a while," he said.

She smiled wryly "for the next seventy two hours you mean?" the usual duration of his technique.

"Indeed."

As they rested in each other's presence, Tenten wished she could see him more than once every few months. "Maybe, after the war, do you think … it would be possible?" Possible for them to have a relationship.

Itachi opened his vivid eyes a fraction, and slid them to hers. He affirmed, "I would like that."

"We could have a place like this one. In the woods. Quiet and peaceful. Far from the village proper but within a day's travel. Then my friends could visit. And Gai-sensei could come over to train sometimes. We can even have an extra room for Sasuke to brood in." Yet even as she painted the scene, it was with half amusement and half wistfulness.

They both knew Itachi would never again rejoin Konohagakure. It was too politically dangerous to allow him back; Itachi would serve as a constant living reminder of the decisions and consequences of what Konoha _can do_ , what Konoha _has done_ to one of its major clans. Over a hundred clan members, some innocent, some not, wiped away overnight.

No. Uchiha Itachi would never be welcomed in Konoha again.

Said Uchiha looked to her and offered a consolation, "Let us treasure our time now, and worry less about the future."

And so they spent the rest of the afternoon, night, day after in the depth of his tsukuyomi illusion.

...

Tenten signaled to the small waiter boy to bring another plate of dango.

The shop had low hum from a few customer's conversations. It was half past six, and almost time for some of its regulars to go home. The brown haired girl rose from her table, leaving a few coins on the table. The shop bell tinkered softly as she left, her footsteps soft. She had a report to make.

The man with the red cloak sat. He did not open his eyes as she left, because he would not have been able to see her. He considered the lone remaining skewer of sweet rice flour dumplings. It was for him. He picked it up and ate it.

It was sweet. It tasted like a memory of a time long past.


End file.
